The web we weave
by Odainath
Summary: mid-S2.  "When has what I wanted ever mattered?"  Alicia/Kalinda


____

**The web we weave  
**post-S2; Kalinda Sharma, Alicia Florrick.  
"_When has what I wanted ever mattered?"_

* * *

_The web we weave is thick and sordid  
Fine by me_

_-o-_

Kalinda leans back, one leg crossed over the other, watching as Alicia reapplies lipstick.

The same shade she leaves on her collar.

Later, they're quiet, lying side-by-side, with the noise of the city surrounding them. Kalinda takes Alicia's hand in hers, fingers ghosting over her wedding ring.

"What are we doing?" Alicia breathes, watching how light reflects off the small diamonds.

Kalinda raises an eyebrow and Alicia laughs, just once, before rising from the bed and gathering her discarded clothing.

"Back to the family?" Kalinda asks, propping herself up on her elbows.

Alicia stops mid-way through buttoning her blouse.

"What else did you expect?"

She leaves then, her perfume lingering in the air long after the door has closed behind her.

-o-

The fitted skirt is a mask, the crisp blouse is a mask, the high heels are a mask: they are all masks. Perfectly positioned so only the most observant could see past.

"Will you be stopping by later tonight?" Kalinda says as she walks into Alicia's office, throwing a file onto her desk.

"Would you like me to?" is the instant retort, coupled with a raised eyebrow, a certain _look _Kalinda has never before seen.

Kalinda shrugs. "I'm not entirely sure."

-o-

Alicia's eyes are shrouded, even when her back arches and her lips part, which is why Kalinda tells herself to 'be careful', reminds herself that she has entered an unfamiliar arena where the usual rules don't apply.

Then Alicia's hand travels down her spine and rests at the small of her back and any coherent thoughts leave her mind completely.

-o-

"Mrs Florrick."

Donna's voice makes the title sound like an insult and Alicia stiffens.

"I didn't realise _who _you were the last time we met," Donna continues, her lips curved in a mocking smile.

"And now you do," Alicia says, sugary-sweet, reminding Kalinda of over-sweet popcorn.

Donna giggles – a high, false giggle, her eyes never once leaving Alicia's who stares back, appearing unconcerned.

Only Kalinda sees the way her knuckles turn white as she holds the wine glass so tightly it might break.

-o-

Alicia tears the court summons into long, thin strips and throws them in the bin.

"You're too easy to get to," Kalinda says, off-hand from where she sits. "I would have thought after everything, a court summons..."

"It's what's behind the summons, Kalinda," Alicia snaps, throwing herself into her chair.

"Ah, the joys of politics," Kalinda mocks. "And by-proxy, the joys of family."

Alicia glares until Kalinda leaves her office, closing the door ever-so-gently behind her.

-o-

She presses her lips to her shoulder, her breath hot and quick, and she leans into the caress. She places a hand at her waist, splays her fingers, and she whispers _'Kalinda'_, the only sound in the otherwise silent bedroom. She presses her lips to her neck, feels her pulse, getting ever-quicker.

"_Kalinda_."

Alicia tries to reach upward but Kalinda's fingers wrap tightly around her wrist, keeping her in place. She arches into her touch, and breathes _yes_, shivers as hands dance over pale skin.

-o-

"When are you going to stop avoiding me?"

Kalinda leans against the door-frame, doesn't smile when Alicia swears inelegantly under her breath before answering.

"I'm not."

She scowls, then her nose wrinkles as a familiar scent hits her with full force.

"Is that _eu de cologne_ I smell?" she asks.

The faint flush that appears on Alicia's cheeks is answer enough. The next day, as Alicia makes her way towards Will's office, Kalinda pushes an envelope into her hands. Will, with his procession of women, she has made sure to display the date and time stamp.

"You'll never be the only one," she says plainly, then saunters down the corridor, heeled boots muffled by the carpeted floor.

She doesn't smell _eu de cologne _in Alicia's office again.

-o-

"He isn't going to win. I wish he'd realise that."

It's a harsh statement, one that resonates around the room, so cold and so impersonal. In the dim fluorescent light, Alicia looks gaunt, her blouse a dull grey, washed-out.

"Why did you start this?" Kalinda asks, referring to an entirely different matter.

Alicia doesn't respond except to fold her arms across her chest.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Kalinda re-phrases.

Alicia steps forward until they are only three-foot apart. So, so close; one more step... It's Kalinda who moves and she raises herself onto her toes, cranes her neck, their lips inches apart. They touch, and she tastes expensive lipstick, bitter coffee, and something that is inherently _Alicia._ A hand on her shoulder, travelling up her neck to cup her cheek. Alicia pulls back, though doesn't withdraw her hand.

"When has what I wanted ever mattered?"

* * *

**Notes**: 'The Good Wife' and its characters are the property of CBS. No copyright infringement intended. The title of this fic is taken from the song 'War Child' performed by The Cranberries. I know this ends abruptly but I had no idea how I was going to finish this particular fic. I may come back and edit at a later date but that's not a definite.


End file.
